


Light Up My Life

by CourierNinetyTwo



Category: RWBY
Genre: Multi, Nonbinary Character, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 22:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10229612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: Weiss hires a model for an unusual sculpture and gets more than she bargained for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A commission for @guiltyfandoms and their AU where everyone in the RWBY cast are artists in one form or another. Also Blake is nonbinary with they/them pronouns.

_WANTED – Model to pose for statue of “Satan After The Fall.” If you think you look like Satan, contact Weiss Schnee through[wschnee@snowstudios.com](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=mailto%3Awschnee%40snowstudios.com&t=OWIxYjNjYTY4MGNkMDAxZTBkNjVhNmM4MGQwM2QwNWI1MWRiNWFmYyxwTXFoMmo4RQ%3D%3D&b=t%3A5gTulbyiLDdwayyaq_Tt8w&p=https%3A%2F%2Ftheivorytowercrumbles.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F158286151334%2Flight-up-my-life-weissblake&m=0)_

It was the second personal ad Weiss had put out in the last year, with the first one acquiring roommates for the sprawling warehouse she turned into a personal studio. Ruby and Yang had jumped on the opportunity for bottom of the barrel rent at a space five minutes’ walking distance from the largest downtown galleries, even if their shared living space wasn’t entirely up to code. Truth be told, half the warehouse looked like a warzone on any given day, but there were enough makeshift walls and curtains to give a modicum of privacy.

She could have had a penthouse instead. The money sitting in her trust fund was for almost any use now that she was of age, but Weiss had endured enough comments through college that she was going to simply buy her way to the top of the art world, and was determined to create a career from the ground up. Hearing Ruby’s hammer banging incessantly against two different kinds of metal at three in the morning – or catching Yang painting nude self-portraits – was worth it for the sake of authenticity.

Except finding a model, much less a proper muse, for classic sculpture was a lot more difficult than expected. There had been a dime a dozen in all her figure drawing classes, but even when she was willing to pay, it was slim pickings. Weiss already had made clay busts of both Ruby and Yang for practice, but now she wanted a new face, untapped inspiration.

“You’re going to get so much shit for that ad.” A voice came from behind her, and Weiss barely swallowed a shriek of surprise before whirling around to find Yang, who was occupied cracking open a can of soda.

“Is it possible you could learn to knock?” Weiss hissed, steadying her laptop across her legs from where it had slipped. This part of the studio didn’t have a formal door, but the corrugated steel wall worked well enough.

Yang shrugged. “Doesn’t change my point, princess. Every metal band and bored stoner is going to shoot you an email if you put that out.”

“It’s going in the newspaper.” Her protest was noted by the arch of one eyebrow, still a bit scorched from Yang’s experiments with a blowtorch last week. “A more sophisticated crowd will be reading it, not the bottom-feeders trolling Craigslist.”

“Okay, Weiss.” Downing her soda in one long gulp, Yang crunched the can between her hands and turned to throw it over into Ruby’s side of the studio, where it clanged into her scrap metal pile. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

–

More than anything, Weiss was glad she hadn’t made a bet with Yang in the heat of the moment. The first two emails she received were near-incomprehensible, although the preponderance of devil emoji along the bottom made their irritating intent clear. Another came two days later, having mistaken her search for a model as a date-seeking ad, and it was only when Weiss scrolled to the bottom of the email that she saw the attached photo, along with unfortunately blinding proof that the man in question wasn’t wearing any pants. She had nearly chucked her laptop across the room while seething; it was quite possible she’d have someone artfully draped with cloth for the sake of the sculpture, but she didn’t need any unsolicited _displays_.

Once a week had passed, flagging hope bid her to start sketching out other potential projects, or at least some sort of flyer that she could put up at one of the nearby galleries. Weiss sighed, pencil tracing fluid lines across smooth paper, but nothing solid had come to mind in the last hour. Toying with the blueprints was never as satisfying as working her hands in clay or tools into marble, and right now the only clear image she had was in dire need of a reference, someone who could give her statue the proper spark. She was almost jealous of how Yang cartwheeled from art form to art form without rhyme or reason, even if it often left quite a mess; the blonde’s style was flexible, unique, and she was so, so rigid.

Or frigid, according to the rumors in college.

Weiss rolled her eyes, dismissing the thought right as a short ding warned that she had a new email. Preparing herself for some new brand of idiocy, she made it two lines into the message before realizing it was serious, and started from the beginning once more to avoid skimming.

_Ms. Schnee,_

_I found your ad in a paper from a few days ago, so I’m not sure if you’ve already found a model. If not, I would like to offer my services, as I have a talent for keeping still and a good deal of interest in your subject – at least, philosophically. I’m afraid I have no picture of myself to offer you, as I’m borrowing this computer and not currently in possession of a phone. However, I’d be happy to meet at a location of your choice to see if my appearance is suitable._

_Yours Faithfully,_

_Blake Belladonna_

It took reading the email a full three times before it actually sank in, and Weiss’ fingers hovered over the keys as she mulled over a reply. The offer certainly seemed serious, if a little bit strange, and if she didn’t find a model today, she was going to have to pay the paper to run the ad for another week. Not that the local prices were very steep, but Weiss had never seen the sense in wasting money if she didn’t have to. This person could very well be the solution to her problem.

_Blake,_

_You’re in luck. My search hadn’t quite ended. It would probably be easiest to meet directly at my studio if you have the time to spare. Tomorrow, if possible? Please leave a few hours open in case I do decide to hire you, as I’d like to get some initial sketches done. You’ll be paid by the hour in cash whenever our session is finished._

Blake’s sendoff was so formal that Weiss hesitated for a moment before just adding her name to the end of the email, adding in a link to her address so directions could be found online. A reply came only a moment later, with a polite note that Blake was looking forward to meeting her. Biting her bottom lip, a nervous flip went through Weiss’ stomach.

“Ruby?” She called out, hoping the younger woman would hear her over the loud hisses and pops filling the studio – Yang experimenting with fire, again.

“Yeah, Weiss!” The reply was muffled before there was some rustling, like dry plastic scraping against itself. “Sorry, mask was on. What’s up?”

“You and Yang are going to be here tomorrow, right? I have a new model showing up.” And I don’t want to be alone sounded a bit pathetic, but Weiss couldn’t remember the last time she’d invited a complete stranger into her house.

“Yup! Just going to be working on–” A hammer clanged and Ruby let out a yelp that was part surprise and part pain.  “…Weiss, where’s the first aid kit?”

Holding back a sigh, Weiss closed her laptop and set it aside before getting off the stool where she had been delicately balanced. “I’ll get it.”

–

The next morning, Weiss received another email from Blake promising to arrive in the early afternoon, so after breakfast she set to sprucing up her side of the studio. Marble dust and old clay was caked almost everywhere, but thankfully concrete was a fairly forgiving surface. Once that was taken care of, Weiss dragged a clean tarp into the center of the room and set one of the more comfortable chairs the warehouse had to offer in its center. It might not have been the most aesthetically pleasing sight, but she did want it to look more inviting than the average basement, at the least.

That was presuming Blake even agreed to model for her – or that they fell in line with her vision – but preparation was one of the few things that put Weiss at ease.

An hour later, there was little else to do but wait. With a sketchbook propped on one knee, Weiss let her pencil fly across the heavy paper at will, defining possible poses and angles for the sculpture. She wanted it to have a classic look while still instantly catching the eye–

A knock at the door startled Weiss from her musing, and she quickly flipped her sketchbook shut, abandoning it to the nearby table before going to answer. The peephole was an inch too high to see through even when she stretched up onto her toes, so Weiss bit the bullet and pulled the door open.

“Hello.” A warm timbre wrapped around the single word, low and even. “Is this Snow Studios?”

“You must be Blake.” Weiss breathed out.

In the back of her mind, she had absently written up a list of preferences for a model, what would and wouldn’t be suitable, but every detail of that list was wiped from Weiss’ memory as she took in the fine angles of Blake’s face, strong cheekbones that tapered down to an almost cherubic softness, yet it was a set of hazel eyes that truly stole her attention, so bright they may as well have been cast in gold. Blake also had half a foot of height on her – not entirely unexpected – but a simple, unadorned black shirt and slacks did little to conceal a lithe, powerful frame.

And at the top of that impressive height was a pair of violet-lined cat ears. Weiss bit her tongue, hoping that her surprise wasn’t too obvious. While she hadn’t asked specifically for a human model, there was the worry that her family’s reputation regarding Faunus would make her model turn right back out the door.

“Miss?” Blake asked, cupid’s bow mouth turning into a polite, awkward smile.

For fuck’s sake, she’d just been standing there and staring. “Yes, it is. I’m Weiss Schnee. Please come in.”

No flinching or recoil followed the name. That was a promising start, at least.

Taking a deep breath to ensure nothing more embarrassing escaped, Weiss held the door open to allow Blake inside, noting the heavy but well-worn peacoat they had folded over one arm. “Is it that chilly out today?”

“Mm?” Bright eyes flickered down and then up again. “Ah, somewhat. But I also have a habit of being out late in the cold.”

Weiss watched Blake take in the whole of the studio and internalized a wince. She’d done everything possible to spruce up her own space, but the warehouse was still a haphazard fusion of necessities and unfinished projects, with one of Yang’s metal dragon concepts standing out as a snarling centerpiece.

“Did you make all of this yourself?” Blake asked.

Thankfully the question sounded more curious than judgmental.

“No, I share the studio with two other people.” She gestured towards the white curtain that cordoned off her part of the warehouse. “Don’t worry about the clanging or the buzzing…or any of the sounds that might carry over from the other side.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Stopping just short of the tarp, Blake raised a brow while examining her supply of raw marble. “You meant an actual statue, didn’t you?”

Right, she had to get down to business. “My specialty is classical sculpture, which is why I wanted to draw from a Renaissance theme and give it a different twist.”

“Satan has certainly maintained his popularity.” A small huff of amusement followed. “But whether or not I’m becoming of his image is up to you.”

Taking a step back from her initial surprise – kneejerk attraction didn’t make a model inherently more suitable for a project – Weiss looked Blake over with a more exacting eye. Even clothed they had an appealing sort of definition, showcasing physical strength without aggressive bulk, and a softer face would make for a more tempting figure. Yet there was one detail she remained curious about.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Weiss began, choosing her words carefully, “could you take your hair down?”

Blake simply shrugged. After setting their coat down on the waiting chair, they worked the thick cable of the braid open, hair spilling like a dark cloak over both shoulders, little waves rising across the tide of inky strands. Without the disciplined style, Blake looked a touch more intimidating, like a restrained coil of power had just been unfurled.

“Look angry.” She said, eyes locked on theirs. “Like God himself just threw you from paradise.”

Blake’s expression immediately shifted, but it wasn’t anger, not quite. Remorse clashed with pain, putting a heavy weight upon their brow, with rage was drawn tight into the line of Blake’s jaw, repressed with the tension there and diamond-sharp. After a span of seconds, their entire face relaxed, severe edges replaced by that polite smile once more. “Like that?”

“You’re perfect.” Weiss blurted out.

A beat of silence passed before Blake’s smile widened. “Well-made, perhaps. Would you like to get started, then?”

“Yes, please.” Weiss turned away from them as heat faded from her face from the earlier outburst, grabbing for her pencil and sketchbook so she could make some preliminary lines and compare them to her initial ideas.

When she spun back on her heel, she nearly dropped both to the floor, staring in abject disbelief.

Blake was halfway undressed, trousers, shoes, and socks resting near their feet. She couldn’t even see what expression was being made when their shirt was stretched up over their head, leaving Blake in nothing but simple underwear after that garment was tossed aside too. Weiss’ eyes traveled over naked muscle before she could stop herself, catching on subtle scars dappling their skin like landmarks, when the dark edge of ink stopped her completely.

“You have tattoos?” It was easier to ask that than why Blake had already stripped, especially when she was fighting back a blush much more fierce than the first.

“Only the one.” Blake turned their back on her, revealing that the ink started all the way up at both shoulders and tapered down to the waist, a riot of color but a unified design. “Do you recognize it?”

It took a moment for Weiss to discern the greater pattern, how it looped around itself in tiers of fire, ice, and razor-sharp wind, Latin lettering hidden along each layer as a discrete marker. There were demons and devils surrounding countless lost souls, but there was little ugliness to find in such gorgeous work, which she could have mistaken for the strokes of a brush if it had not already been identified as the product of needle and ink.

“Dante’s Inferno.” She remarked softly. “Every layer of hell.”

“Perhaps grace brought me to you when you were seeking a Lucifer.” Blake glanced back over one shoulder, voice even but eyes bright with amusement. “But you’re not a woman of faith, are you?”

Weiss stopped her eyes from falling past the bare line of their hips, the subtle tightness in her throat lingering even when she turned to find a clean drop cloth. “I’m not. I just appreciate the art that results from it.”

When she held up the cloth, high enough to obscure most of Blake’s body from view, the Faunus raised a brow. “What’s that for?”

“Uh, to drape over your–” Weiss cleared her throat. “For while you’re sitting.”

It was taken with a light touch before Blake looped it around their hips, cutting off the boundary of temptation – even if the cloth was somewhat opaque. “Going for a _genie du mal_ effect, then?”

Surprise displaced her distraction in an instant. “You know that sculpture?”

Weiss bit her tongue the moment after the question escaped her. She hadn’t meant to imply that the Faunus was uneducated, but she wasn’t used to others sharing her interests. “I mean–”

“I’m not offended.” Blake took a careful seat on the chair, arranging both legs until the position was more casual, almost languid. A shadow was cast between sculpted thighs, but the cloth hid anything higher from view. “To you, it’s art history. To me, it’s a religious matter. But we both know the same piece.”

For want of something to do with her hands, Weiss took her seat opposing Blake, flipping her sketchbook open to a clean page. “Then you know you’re right. That’s exactly what I’m looking for.”

“A fallen angel able to make nuns blush.” Blake said with a soft chuckle. “Or bring sympathy for the devil, I suppose.”

Weiss swallowed past a touch of dryness in her throat, pencil starting in broad strokes as she echoed the basic lines and shapes of Blake’s frame. She certainly wasn’t a nun – even if her love life might be just as barren – but the feeling inspired by the pose in front of her had very little to do with sympathy. “Glance away, down to the floor. Look…lost.”

The response was instant, tension bleeding from Blake’s jaw as hazel eyes broke from her gaze, wide yet distant. Weiss sketched even faster, trying to keep her attention on the expression rather than the sharp span of Blake’s collarbones, the softer path down to narrow hips, and if she spent a bit too long detailing that long dark hair rather than focusing on the hollow of Blake’s throat, the flex of muscle in the arm cast across the Faunus’ lap, who could even tell?

“How does someone like you end up with Hell tattooed all over your back?” Weiss asked aloud, needing some sound other than her pencil scratching to fill the silence.

“Someone like me?” Blake hummed in amusement. “It’s a reminder of what we’re all capable of, what our choices can lead to.”

“That’s rather bleak.” One smooth stroke followed down the line of Blake’s ribs before tracing the loose folds of the draped fabric, shading in the shadows. “But fitting, in this case.”

“I didn’t have a very promising start to life, I suppose.” A very subtle shrug rippled through Blake’s shoulders, not enough to disrupt the pose. “I lost my parents and was raised by another Faunus named Adam. When I was a child, it was fine, but then I got older…”

Weiss bit her lip, not sure if her previous comment had overstepped. “And things were less than idyllic?”

“He was more of a Cain than an Abel.” The quirk of Blake’s lips confirmed the dark humor, even if Weiss stared for a moment. “But eventually I ended up in the church, being raised by Father Ozpin. I was frustrated, angry, and a thief, so he had quite the task on his hands.”

The nervousness Weiss had felt earlier about inviting a stranger into her studio was entirely absent now, and even the comment about a criminal background didn’t merit more than a raised brow. Blake trusted her enough to be naked and still for the sake of a sculpture; she could be charitable about a…complicated history. “So are you actually a part of it? Do you give sermons and that sort of thing?”

“No, not quite. Mother Superior Goodwitch tried to talk me out of applying to the seminary, but I was stubborn.” Blake’s smile turned a bit nervous, almost contrite. “I had faith enough to think my knowledge of scripture could convince those who were less inclined to accept diversity in the church.”

Flipping to a new page, Weiss started to sketch a plinth underneath Blake, experimenting with what base she would use. Emulating the chair would make it look far too modern. “I’m guessing that didn’t go well.”

“Not at all.” Blake laughed, then settled back into the pose she had requested. “How about you? I would think a Schnee scion would be in business, not art.”

So the Faunus had recognized her name. There was a reason her studio title wasn’t a blatant reference to herself or family, but it wasn’t terribly hard to put the pieces together. “If I was the only heir, that might have been a problem. But my sister has plenty of business acumen.”

Weiss tapped the end of the pencil against her chin, struck by a thought. “Can you lay back some? Like you’ve collapsed, struck by…let’s say, a spear.”

“Or a storm of wrath.” Blake commented, sagging against the back of the chair and staring directly up at the ceiling. “ _Et ait illis videbam Satanan sicut fulgur de caelo cadentem_.”

The words rolled off Blake’s tongue in a smooth purr, and for some reason, Weiss felt heat rush to her face, peaking all the way up at her ears. “What was that?”

“Luke 10:18.” With eyes half-lidded, Weiss couldn’t decide if Blake looked exhausted or caught in a saintly sort of ecstasy. “I saw Satan fall like a lightning-flash from Heaven.”

She scrawled out a few more sketches, although they were becoming messier by the page. The change in position made the faint trace of muscle ripple along Blake’s stomach with every breath, the angle of both legs extended allowing the cloth slip a few inches lower, where even a faint twitch would rob the Faunus of any modesty. Weiss’ pencil hesitated, eyes following along that faint space hidden by shadow.

“Hey, Weiss, I just wanted to check in on–” Metal creaked and Weiss spun around in her chair, catching sight of Ruby standing in the doorway and staring with wide eyes. “Wow!”

“Ruby!” Blaming the warmth rushing to her face on anger instead of embarrassment, Weiss jabbed her pencil towards the younger woman. “I’m working.”

“I was just missing one of my, um–” Putting one hand over her eyes, Ruby mumbled. “I’m sorry, I’m not used to Weiss having naked people in here.”

Blake’s laugh was warm, somehow utterly lacking embarrassment. “No offense taken.”

“That’s because I don’t usually have anyone naked here.” Weiss snapped, only to realize how that sounded a second later. Biting down on her tongue, she counted to five. “What do you need, Ruby?”

“You said you were having a new model over so I just wanted to know what for, that’s all–” Each word was a bit faster than the next as Ruby backpedaled with her eyes still covered, only to yelp in surprise when she met an unexpected obstacle.

“What exactly are you two yelling about in here?” Yang asked, then raised a brow as her eyes swept over Blake from head to toe. “Wow.”

Huffing loudly, Weiss rolled her eyes. “You are both intolerable. This is art, not a peep show.”

“Which is why I’m dragging Ruby out of here before she asks any questions.” Hooking an arm around her sister’s shoulders, Yang started to walk backwards.

“What questions?” Ruby’s voice carried even as she was unceremoniously yanked out of view and towards the other side of the studio. “I’m not a kid, I’ve seen people naked before!”

By the time the noise faded, Weiss’ face was flushed pink, and it took two separate tries before she managed to turn and look Blake in the eyes again. The Faunus seemed more amused than anything else, leaning a bit more casually than the more rigid pose that had been adopted for the sake for the sculpture.

“I’m so sorry.” She started, then realized that wasn’t entirely adequate. “Ruby and Yang are my friends, but that’s not an excuse for them to walk in on you.”

Blake simply shrugged, nonplussed. “You’re making a sculpture of me that I’m sure quite a lot of people will be walking in on.”

“Nonetheless.” Despite her best attempts, Weiss’ couldn’t will her embarrassment away, and set her pencil back down with care. “Maybe we should take that as a sign to stop here for the day…if you’re alright with coming back tomorrow.”

She tried not to bite her lip or hold her breath, but thankfully Blake’s immediate response was a smile. “Of course. The work’s just begun.”

“Great.” Tamping down the excitement building in her breast, Weiss put her notebook away and started searching through one of the drawers in her desk, looking for where she kept spare cash. Most of the time, her expenses simply went on a credit card. “Let me pay you.”

Counting the right amount was a good distraction from Blake getting dressed again in the corner of her eye, so much so that Weiss did it three times until she saw that the Faunus’ pants were completely zipped again. When she turned around to offer the money, Blake raised a brow at the folded bills.

“That’s more than you promised me.” Their tone was curious more than anything else, but when Blake’s fingers caught around the cash, they didn’t try and pull it out of her grip, waiting for an answer.

“Because I realized that I’m…asking more than I thought.” The knot of awkwardness in Weiss’ throat solidified into a stone. “Asking a Faunus to represent the one who tempts all of humankind.”

Much to her surprise, Blake smiled. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

‘It wasn’t my intention. The implication, I mean.” She quickly corrected.

“What’s the purpose of this statue?” A gesture was cast towards the marble. “If someone asked you what it means.”

“That…that those we often condemn as evil may be wounded people who made a mistake. That we often find the forbidden beautiful.” Weiss nearly bit her tongue, glancing towards where she had stored the notebook, all of the sketches unfolding within her mind again. “I could always just not sculpt your ears, if that would–”

Those very ears flickered up into sharp points and she stopped short. “I would have your idea be judged as it stands. Some people may take the wrong message from it, but that is the risk all artists take, is it not?”

“Yes.” Weiss said, soft but honest, and her whole body relaxed when Blake finally took the money from her and stowed it away in the pocket of their coat. “I’ll see you to the door.”

Cold radiated through the latch when she turned it, but that was nothing compared to the gust of wind that blew into the warehouse when she pulled the door open. Weiss winced as a hundred displaced snowflakes immediately spattered her clothes, but it was the solid foot of ice and snow packed against the doorstep that prompted a lung-deep, “Ugh.”

“I should have checked the weather in the paper this morning.” Blake said from behind her, and Weiss did her best not to startle at the pass of warm breath over the top of her hair. “But my walk home isn’t far.”

“Walk?” Weiss turned and shut the door in one motion, shivering as the heat trapped inside started to leach the chill from her skin. “I’ll call you a taxi.”

“From the look of your block, the street-sweepers haven’t gotten to this district yet.” The Faunus shook their head. “I doubt a driver would make it this far. It’s really no trouble.”

“Unless you’re going to be running on the rooftops, a foot of snow is trouble for you too.” Weiss protested, keeping her back to the door so Blake wouldn’t simply shuffle outside into the blizzard. “We have an extra bed in the loft here. Ruby usually uses it when her friend Penny stays over, but it’s empty tonight.”

A dark brow knit in concern before Blake patted the pocket of their jacket. “Please. You’ve been generous enough today.”

Weiss held back a huff; now she was going to have to get creative. “That doesn’t make it any less rude to refuse charity.”

Blake’s rumbling laugh sent a pink flush straight to Weiss’ face, but she held her head high, refusing to relent without being given an answer. “I suppose that’s true. But you’ll have to let me make you dinner in return.”

“If you can figure out to work the wood stove that Yang cobbled together with metal and a prayer, you’re welcome to.” Weiss’ grip eased away from the door latch as she stopped bracing herself against its width, brushing what few flakes of snow had yet to melt off her shirt.

What passed as a kitchen in the warehouse would make any chef from her childhood weep for the inhumanity, but Weiss gave Blake a full tour of the cabinets and minimal appliances before leaving them to try and turn water into wine – as it were. She ducked into Yang’s fenced-off studio, avoiding a lot of pointy edges and burned scraps that were leftover from the blonde’s experiments with pyrography, but found both sisters relaxing on the floor with a pile of blueprints in between them.

“This thing would be huge, Yang.” Ruby leaned down, squinting at one of the designs. “But cool, if you could find someone who wants to put a big metal dragon in the middle of a park.”

“I hate to interrupt your plans to terrify schoolchildren but–” Weiss began, only to be interrupted by Yang’s narrowed eyes.

“Terrify? Hey, if I was a kid and saw this, I’d pick up a sword and play knight all day, okay?” She made a huge swinging gesture, as if Weiss might have missed her point.

“That aside…” Currently nothing beside Yang’s equipment smelled like it was burning, so she was fairly sure Blake was managing to make _something_ for dinner. “We’re having a guest over tonight.”

“Um, who?” Ruby asked, shuffling the blueprints on the floor back into some semblance of order. “Wait, is it your model?”

“Ooh.” Violet eyes lit up before Yang lounged across the floor, wiggling her eyebrows. “Skipping a couple steps there, aren’t you, Weiss? Saw ‘em naked before even going on a date.”

Crossing her arms, Weiss drew on every bit of imperious stature she could summon. “Their name is Blake, thank you, and they are being kind enough to cook for us because everything is frozen to hell outside, which means ordering in happens to be out of the question.”

“It can’t be a date if we’re there with her, Yang.” Ruby mumbled.

“That just means we’re her escorts, sis.” Hopping up to her feet, Yang threw her arm around Weiss’ shoulders and squeezed hard enough for something in her spine to pop. “Got to keep our heiress out of trouble.”

She had any number of choice words for Yang to hear in response to that, but Weiss only managed a yelp as she was suddenly dragged out of the studio and back towards the kitchen. Ruby jangled with every step behind them, only to knock right into Yang’s back when her sister suddenly ground to a halt.

Blake was surrounded by every bowl and plate in the house, ingredients spread across the heavy wood block that Ruby had dragged in to serve as a counter. Their coat was thrown over the back of the only chair present, leaving sculpted forearms bare as the Faunus kneaded bread with their bare hands, a dusting of flour marking one cheek. Distracting as that was, Weiss had to admit the heart of her surprise came from the fact that there was any flour within two miles of the warehouse, much less some that was useable.

“Yeah, they can stay.” Yang said, promptly slapping Weiss’ shoulder after relaxing her grip. “Good luck, Weiss.”

“Oh, shut up.” She muttered under her breath, walking over to Blake with some fraction of her dignity intact. “Do you need any help with that?”

The Faunus turned to look at her, smile briefly flashing their teeth. “No. Let me do some sculpting of my own and you can enjoy the results.”

“Deal.” Weiss returned the smile, pointedly ignoring the soft giggle she heard from Ruby in the background. “And tomorrow I’ll show you what I really do. It’s a lot more than sketching.”

“I look forward to it.” They pointed with a few flour-coated fingers back out of the kitchen. “Now let me earn my keep.”

She retreated gracefully, leaving to sit in the open space where Ruby had pulled up their eclectic collection of chairs in an attempt to emulate a living room. Taking a seat next to Yang, she jabbed a finger right against the blonde’s shoulder, making her jolt upwards in surprise.

“Hey, what was that for?” She demanded.

Weiss raised a brow, perfectly pleased with herself. “I’m _never_ taking your advice on advertising again.”

–


End file.
